Le Famille
by A Crazy Elephant
Summary: Or "Five Times Ariadne Met Her Team Members' Families and the One Time They Met Hers"
1. Saito

**Title:** Le Famille

**Author:** A Crazy Elephant

**Summary:** Or "Five Times Ariadne Met Her Team Members' Families and the One Time They Met Hers"

**Category:** Family/Friendship

**Word Count: **1,380

**Disclaimer:** Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan, not me. Sad.

**Author's Notes:** So I've been reading unhealthy amounts of Inception fanfiction since this summer and I've come to find I love the family/back story types the best. Since I'm forbidden to start work on my NaNoWriMo entry and I'm avoiding a Human Variation paper on Mendelian inheritance, I thought I'd go ahead and let off some steam with a fuzzy family piece of my own. None of them really have a point, just a series of fluffy moments with the families I like to think our favorite dream thieves have. I'm using a different tense than my usual style; let me know if I slip back into the past participle. Reviews are loved; I'd love to hear what you think. = )

_**1 – Saito**_

_2 Days Before Inception_

They're staying at some ridiculously lavish hotel in Sydney.

Well, she and Saito are staying at _this_ ridiculously lavish hotel. The others have made themselves scarce, booked in several other extravagant hotels in the area that she's pretty sure each cost nearly as much as a semester's worth of tuition per night. It would look suspicious, she is told, too highly coincidental if anyone got curious and did some digging to find that every first class passenger on the Sydney to Los Angeles just _happened_ to arrive in Australia on the same day and just _happened_ to stay in the same hotel before hand.

She arrives from Hong Kong with a passport that says her name is Katie Stephens from California and a lie about looking into schools abroad on a trust fund allowance the morning after Saito, who claims to be stopping in to check on one of his business ventures and the day before Yusuf who is supposedly on his way to a symposium on organic chemistry. She has been carefully instructed, groomed and outfitted with a particularly impressive pack of false identification papers, plane tickets and a suitcase loaded with designer versions of her usual wardrobe in every effort to make her less Poor College Student and more Trust Fund Baby.

But checked in and standing in a room three times the size of her Parisian flat, she doesn't feel like Trust Fund Baby Katie from Los Angeles. She hardly even feels like Poor College Student Ariadne from Paris. It feels like a dream.

Except it isn't. The bishop falls with a resounding thud to the nightstand every time she gives it a knock. She can remember how she got to the Sydney hotel - from waking up from Cobb's nightmares to the announcement of Maurice Fischer's passing, to Eames and Arthur giving her a crash course in using aliases, false travel documents and not arousing suspicion, to the flights to Hong Kong and Sydney and the taxi to the hotel. Barring any truth to certain philosophical theories that she only half remembers from a long ago undergraduate philosophy seminar and to the best of her knowledge, she is most certainly awake. In forty-eight hours, she will get on a plane, enter the subconscious of at least two men she barely knows and help plant an idea that will surely be felt by far more than just Robert Fischer and the team's bank accounts.

With reality verified, she gets restless and suddenly the suite with it's sleek design and clean lines reminisce of another hotel she'll be seeing this week, feels cramped and stuffy. Leaving the suitcase, she takes her messenger bag and her bishop and returns to the row of elevators.

It's too cold outside after the mild late spring of Paris and the stuffy warmth of Hong Kong, so she elects to remain in the lobby. She briefly considers one of the upscale restaurants, but even in her newly purchased Hermès scarf and Gucci shoes, she's quite certain she'd feel out of place and that the guilty feeling of glaring conspicuousness would be even more difficult to shake so instead she settles onto one of the boxy couches that act as buffer between the reception desk and the restaurants. She rummages through her bag and produces her sketchbook, with dim intentions of recording some of the design elements in the building around her.

"What'cha drawing?" The question comes from behind; above her shoulder, really and from a tiny little face with familiar sharp features and an accent that sounds like it was perhaps picked up from Sesame Street.

"Oh – the hotel," She explains awkwardly, holding up the sketchbook for the little boy's inspection. It's hard to say how old he is – he's tall enough to push eight or nine and the crisp little khakis and oxford he wears add to the effect, but the complete innocence of the question, as though asking anything of complete strangers is entirely normal, plus the look in his dark eyes that expects a genuine answer sets him back to perhaps six or seven.

The child studies the picture critically for a moment, then the lobby around them.

"You forgot the sign. For the restaurant." He concludes, pointing to the far wall where the letters of the eatery's name glow in the ambient lighting and then at her sketch. She snorts a chuckle and nods.

"So I have. Thank you." She offers what she hopes is an appreciative smile. The jetlag, plus the growing anxiety of the upcoming assignment and the general surrealism of the entire experience have dulled her manners and enthusiasm and she'd hate to hurt the kid's feelings.

"Why are you in Australia?" He asks, matter-of-factly. "You aren't Australian." He's definitely more on the six end of the age spectrum. His frank observations and probing questions haven't really a logical pattern or a snide tone that an older child might use.

"No, no I'm not." She agrees. "I'm looking at schools." She uses the lie Eames has supplied her with and nearly feels guilty telling it in response to such an earnest question.

"Why would you want to do that?" He scrunches his face in mild confusion and she nearly giggles at the innocent simplicity of his comprehension. "Wouldn't you want to _go_ to school instead of just _looking_ at it?"

"I _do_ want to go to school, I just have to pick one first." She explains with another smile. "And I have to see them before I can choose." This answer is satisfactory and the child nods enthusiastically.

"We're surprising Father." The boy announces. "He's working and Mother thought we ought to visit him." He explains. There's a touch of pride in his voice and he holds his chin a bit higher at the cleverness and secretiveness of this plan. "He's been in France," The child continues. "That's miles and miles away!"

"Yeah?" She enthuses.

"Yes," He beams. "Mother says this is the closest he'll be to home until his meetings are over so we _had_ to visit."

"I'm sure he'll be very pleased you've come to see him." She tries another encouraging smile and the child seems satisfied. He is about to speak, but the approach of an older boy and a brief scolding in what she assumes is Japanese interrupts.

"I am sorry for my brother," The elder apologizes. The boy, sporting the same sharp features as his brother, is stiffer; his manners more refined and he's clearly at least twice the age of the smaller boy. Dressed in an even neater button down and pleated little khaki pants than his brother, he's a miniature, more casual version of her employer and she knows she's correctly identified Saito's sons. "He is . . . overly friendly."

"It's all right." She admits. And it is. There's something comforting in the younger boy's smile and it's nice to see a side of her employer's life that doesn't include cryptic observations, cutthroat business strategies or outrageously accommodating spending sprees.

"She was showing me her picture." The smaller child points to her open sketchbook. "I was _helping,_ Ichiro-chan!" He defends.

"I'm sure you were, Jiro-kun." The older boy, Ichiro, is not convinced and his tone has a note of impatience. "Come along." A call from the lobby in Japanese interrupts, bringing both boys' attentions to the reception area where Saito stands with a woman in a prim little cocktail dress, looking expectantly at the children.

"I apologize for my brother," Ichiro says again, with a little nod as he ushers his brother toward their parents. "Good day,"

"Good bye!" Jiro waves enthusiastically over his brother's shoulder as he is herded away before bounding ahead to his parents

"Good bye!" She waves back, smiling as the boys reach their mother, who gives them a short lecture she assumes is along the lines of 'don't talk to strangers'. While the boys accept their reprimand, Saito catches her gaze and nods in acknowledgement with a knowing sort of smile. She nods back as they move out to the curb and a waiting car and even though she still feels as though she'd moving through a dream, at least, she decides, it's a good one.


	2. Eames

**Title:** Le Famille

**Author:** A Crazy Elephant

**Summary:** Or "Five Times Ariadne Met Her Team Members' Families and the One Time They Met Hers"

**Category:** Family/Friendship

**Word Count: **1,414

**Disclaimer:** Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan, not me. Sad.

**Author's Notes:** So I'm still hiding from my Human Variation paper, and I've realized that that paper on generational conflicts in 17th century French dramaturgy I've also been avoiding is coming up. Like Monday. I've had just about enough of Molière and Mendel (because those are _totally_ related subjects) to last a lifetime so obviously I ought to write a little more _Inception_. Besides, this has been my favorite so far. I've read dozens of different versions of Eames- rake, reprobate, super spy, but I love the teddy bear family man sort of outlook on him and I rather hope all of you do as well. Brace yourselves for the fluff.

Again, I'm using a different tense than my usual style; let me know if I slip back into the past participle. Bonus points if anyone can tell me which fictional middleman mastermind I lifted the name 'Badger' from. Thank you so much for your interest any support! It was a wonderful surprise to wake up to an inbox full of alerts, favorites and reviews!

_**2 – Eames**_

_2 Months, 1 Week and 5 Days After Inception_

She takes one more job between the inception and the start of the fall term.

It's just a simple extraction, but she's been bored in the four weeks of silence she was required to maintain with her team members and jumps at the chance to bend cities again. The extra money doesn't hurt either.

They're in Dublin this time and the team is just Arthur and Eames. With his children restored to him, Cobb's pretty much dropped off the face of the extraction world, Saito sent them the referral to the current client and Yusuf, while more than willing to ship up some specialty compounds, has elected to return to his lab and the dream den rather than go into the field again so soon. She doesn't mind.

Much.

She's pretty sure she's going to break down one of these days and have to hurt Eames. That is of course, if Arthur doesn't beat her to it. Without Cobb around to glare and stew or Saito to hover and make his cryptic observations, Eames has slipped into full 'big brother' mode and seems determined to push Arthur into something drastic. Like a bullet between the eyes. Eames' or his own, she hasn't figured out which, but after two solid weeks of listening to the forger ruthlessly bait the point man, she certainly doesn't blame him. While their banter is on occasion hilarious, it makes it damn near impossible to test run levels with any kind of efficiency.

It doesn't help that Arthur has set them up in an old artist's studio that has the illusion of the open warehouse they had in Paris but at about a fraction of the actual floor space. The views out the windows onto the Liffey from their second story location are refreshing after the dull brick from the Parisian warehouse skylights, but each workspace is packed in tighter, her drawings and models and Arthur's paperwork seem to take up more room and everything just feels so close. Especially on rainy days such as today when they've all shown up in soaking jackets, toting dripping umbrellas and haven't the luxury of stepping outside for a bit of air.

By lunchtime, she's sure Arthur's made the executive decision to just put a bullet in the Forger if only for a bit of quiet and she's half a mind to help him out, but before either can reach for any sort of weapon a scolding voice from the outer stairs and the rattle of keys in the lock interrupt. It's strange – all three team members are all ready present and there's no one else she can think of that would have keys, but neither the point man or the forger seem overly agitated at the interruption so she's more curious than concerned as the heavy studio door swings open and a tiny little girl no more than three with sopping brown curls and a purple rain slicker bounces in.

"Ah! Nattie darling!" Eames grins at the appearance of the child who skips over, little yellow Wellingtons flapping, to the forger's desk, leaving the keys dangling in the lock of the open door.

"Daddy!" _Daddy_? Ariadne is shocked. Eames of all people is not the sort she pinned for a family man. He drinks with an enthusiasm to rival freshman fraternity brothers, he flirts shamelessly with pretty much anything that breaths, he gambles more regularly than he works and he most certainly doesn't seem to be the sort who lifts little doe eyed urchins in rain slickers and pigtails to sit atop his notes with a wicked grin as he does now.

"And where is Mummy this afternoon?" The forger asks with one of his charming smiles and the child giggles, swinging her feet back and forth off the edge of the desk.

"Just there," The little girl points to the still open door where a little blonde woman in the most ludicrously high heels Ariadne has ever seen and a beautifully tailored suit to rival Arthur's blusters in, carrying a Paddington Bear umbrella and a Big Bird backpack and chattering into a cell phone in a rapid fire blend of Gaelic and English. The woman looks tired and hurried, as though there are a thousand other things she's got left to do this afternoon as she tugs the keys from the lock and nudges the door shut.

"Yes Ma- I will. Thank you- good bye-" The cell phone is clicked off and vanishes into a pocket of the designer trench coat. "Hello Arthur," The woman waves distractedly as she passes the point man on her way to Eames' corner of the studio.

"Hello, Mim." Arthur greets dutifully from his desk. He still looks on the brink of causing serious damage to Eames, but the appearance of the girl and the woman seem to have calmed him significantly as the forger's focus now lies on the chattering child and the woman rather than solely on creating new and exciting ways of tormenting the point man.

"Darling!" Eames gives his customary greeting as the woman, Mim, drops the sodden umbrella and the Big Bird pack into his lap and presses a kiss to his forehead. "Whatever are you doing here, my sweet?"

"Client called on the way down from Mum and Dad's – I've got to run." Mim explains distractedly, her speech polished and her accent thick and rolling, but Eames isn't quite listening.

"Ariadne, luv- my wife Mim!" He introduces brightly and she waves, still a bit dazed at this curious new development, from her desk. "Mim, our charming little architect, Ariadne and this," The forger places a hand on the child's shoulder, "is Nattie."

"Hello," She greets and Nattie smiles, but Mim just gives a weak little wave in her direction before tugging sharply on Eames' loosened collar.

"Focus Willy; I'm meeting Badger on Grafton Street in twenty minutes to go over the order before we meet the client. I'll meet you back at the hotel." Mim explains, still in a rush and dropping a quick kiss to the child's forehead. Eames nods as Mim taps the child's nose. "Now Nattie petal, please be good for Daddy and try to let Mr. Arthur and Ms. Ariadne work in peace."

"Yes, Mummy," The little girl answers dutifully, turning her fingers over in over in a way that Ariadne vaguely recognizes as the movements to 'The Isty Bisty Spider'.

"Good luck darling," He grins and accepts a kiss. "Give Badger my best."

"Of course-" Mim waves him off and nods again towards Ariadne's desk. "It's lovely to meet you; I'm sorry to be so rude and just rush off, but I've a client tempted to back out of a deal and a colleague who can't handle it," She apologizes and with a final wave to Arthur, Mim is on her way out the door.

Once the click of Mim's heels down the stairs fades, Eames sets Nattie to coloring pictures of Elmo and Grover near his desk. Ariadne has to think about this a moment and it takes quite a bit of self-control not to giggle. _Eames_, fast talking, sharp shooting _William Eames_ who wears awful shirts and is more than willing to leave a man behind, sets the tiniest three year old in the most precious little navy jumper she has ever seen to color _Sesame Street _before he returns to scanning through the neatly compiled dossiers Arthur has left him and for the first time in weeks, there is quiet in the studio.

It doesn't last long.

Nattie easily grows tired of Big Bird and Cookie Monster and is on her feet, studying first her father, who makes a wide range of funny faces over his notes for her benefit before losing interest and proceeding to the point man's work space.

"Mr. Arthur?"

"Yes, Miss Natalie?" Arthur answers without looking up from his laptop.

"Wotcha doin'?" The child presses, standing on her tiptoes in efforts to see above the desk.

"Background checks." Ariadne's fairly certain that this answer means absolutely nothing to Natalie Eames.

"Sounds borin'." Nattie snorts, falling back on her heels and scrunching up her little face. "How come you en't ever do anythin' _fun _Mr. Arthur?" Arthur frowns at the observation and Ariadne tries not to grin as the child continues, "How come you're such a _stick-in-the-mud_?"

Eames roars with laughter and looks nothing but proud.


	3. Cobb

**Title:** Le Famille

**Author:** A Crazy Elephant

**Summary:** Or "Five Times Ariadne Met Her Team Members' Families and the One Time They Met Hers"

**Category:** Family/Friendship

**Word Count: **1,232

**Disclaimer:** Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan, not me. Sad.

**Author's Notes:** First, thank you all for your support and input! This has gotten more alerts and more favorites than any of my other pieces! I can hardly thank you enough; you guys are awesome!

K, now here's what's happening. I've got all but Ariadne's chapter planned out and half written. The goal is to get up a new chapter once a day. Feel free to pester me if I fail to do so. Again, brace yourselves for the fluff. Happy Halloween!

_**3 – Cobb**_

_9 months, 3 Weeks, 4 Days Since Inception_

The inception team comes to her graduation.

Most of them, anyway. Saito, required to be at some business summit, sends her a card of congratulations and a floral arrangement that now sits on her kitchen table and she doesn't hold it against him. Honestly, she's rather surprised _any_ of them show up, let alone feel they have to apologize for their absence. They're only coworkers after all – friendly coworkers true, but still. Though, she supposes, their work _is_ far more intimate and requires significantly more trust than the average pencil pushing positions her classmates have all accepted. Poking around someone's subconscious over and over has to establish some kind of relationship, she's sure.

They don't sit together; she can see them scattered out among the crowd from her seat in the salutatorian's chair onstage. Eames and Yusuf are camped out on opposite ends of the back half of the crowd looking more or less as they did the last time she saw them (meaning Yusuf is cheerful, but with a pained look that says he would perhaps be more comfortable in a smaller crowd and Eames has on a devilish grin and a suggestive glint in his eyes). Arthur has chosen the middle of the crowd, a few rows up from the faculty. He too looks much as he always does in one of his impossibly pressed suits, but he carries flowers and smiles encouragingly while Cobb sticks to the front, seated just behind Miles wearing a smug sort of pride and accompanied by two fidgety blonde moppets in Sunday clothes who can only be the famous James and Phillipa.

The ceremony is the standard graduation proceeding she remembers from high school and her undergraduate. She gives a short speech of gratitude to the faculty and a requisite inspirational bit before the valedictorian's longer, though equally bland and uninspiring speech and she can see a touch of pride in Eames' smirk as she lies enthusiastically about 'oh the places they'll go' with their shiny new masters degrees.

When it's over and she's toting a diploma, she is forced to congratulate the various acquaintances she's made over her term here, have her photo taken numerous times and accept thanks from other professors and advisors and she loses track of her former teammates, despite the plans for a celebratory dinner downtown, in the whirl of faces and rush of the crowd as the audience presses in to greet their graduates.

Cobb rescues her. He weaves through the enthusiastic crush of former peers, their families and their friends to catch her vainly trying to escape a longwinded congratulatory speech from one of her least favorite professor before firing off an impressive little lie along the lines of 'Ariadne, your mother's waiting for you- why, yes Professor, I am Miles' son-in-law- the children are well, thank you for asking'. The entirely false announcement of Ariadne's mother (who is actually in an entirely different hemisphere at the moment) and her expectations is enough for the professor and she is able to follow Cobb through the chattering crowd and off to the small car he's rented where Arthur waits with Phillipa and James.

They are older than she remembers from Cobb's projections. Phillipa's pushing six now and explaining to Arthur all about her first year in kindergarten. James is now nearing four and is entirely uninterested in his sister's tales of Sammy In Her Class and the paragon of education that is apparently Miss Kim of Highland Elementary and is instead attempting to persuade 'Uncle Arthur' to critique the crayon masterpiece he drew during the ceremony. At the reappearance of their father, James gives up on Arthur for artistic feedback and jogs forward.

"Dad- look- see- it's a _worm_." The little boy announces proudly holding up the miniature legal pad Cobb had placated him with for the duration of the commencement speeches and diploma presentations so that they can see the wobbly wax sketches of a worm and an army of worm friends.

"It's a very nice worm," Cobb agrees, diplomatically. It isn't surprising to see him playing the father rather than the extractor, but it's no less hilariously adorable. There's something touchingly humorous about watching the former preeminent extractor who's talked more secrets out of more people in his sleep, consider the merits of crayon annelids. "James, can you say hello to Miss Ariadne?"

"Hello, Miss Ariadne," James echoes distractedly, before holding out his artwork for her inspection. "Do _you_ like it?" He asks hopefully and she nods.

"He's a wonderful worm." She agrees and this seems to be enough praise for James who whirls around to stick out his tongue at Phillipa.

"I told you; I told you he wasn't _stupid_!" James grins triumphantly at his sister, who is still regaling the point man with descriptions of the Highland Elementary Playground and her literary accomplishments in reading all four 'Frog and Toad' books by herself before the end of the school year. At her brother's interruption, Phillipa scowls and sticks out _her_ tongue, which earns her a warning glance from Cobb. "Pip kept saying he was a stupid worm." James explains to Ariadne as they approach the vehicle, where Arthur sits with the passenger door open, patiently listening to the girl's enthusiastic school stories.

"Hello," Arthur greets, catching a victorious James who's rushed the last few steps to the passenger seat before the boy collides with his knee. Phillipa frowns again, but decides to ignore her brother and Ariadne can see a judgment along the lines of _stupid boys_ cross the girl's face before the child smiles.

"I'm Pip." She introduces. "And I'm supposed to say 'congratulations'."

"Thank you, Pip." She smiles. "I'm Ariadne."

"I know." The child admits and her smile wavers as James is finally able to attain Arthur's assessment of the worm sketch. "Daddy said this is your party and you get flowers from Uncle Arthur because you finished school." She observes. It isn't a snide observation, rather there's something matter of fact about the girl's tone.

"Pip-" Cobb clearly had intended his children to be on better behavior this afternoon, but Ariadne doesn't mind and the urchins in question, too pleased to have an audience other than their father, don't pick up on his frustration.

"Do you think _I'll_ get a party when _I_ finish school?" Phillipa asks and Ariadne nods.

"I'm sure you will. And I'm sure we can convince your Uncle Arthur to get you flowers too." Ariadne assures her and the child perks up enormously, even as her brother continues to chatter over her about his drawing.

"I'll be in first grade next year! You get to go to the computer lab in first grade _and_ music class _twice_ a week!" Phillipa explains brightly. "I'm nearly there!"

"Nearly," Ariadne agrees. She doesn't have the heart to correct the girl.

"Will you come to my party?" Phillipa asks seriously, momentarily fearful while James mumbles to the point man that _he'd_ like a party too but would much prefer that Arthur show up with a tarantula rather than flowers.

"If you'd like me to,"

"Yes." She says decisively, before turning to her father. "Can Miss Ariadne come to my party, Daddy?" The extractor doesn't seem thrilled with conversation concerning his little girl's graduation from anything.

"Maybe we should go to _her_ party first."


	4. Yusuf

**Title:** Le Famille

**Author:** A Crazy Elephant

**Summary:** Or "Five Times Ariadne Met Her Team Members' Families and the One Time They Met Hers"

**Category:** Family/Friendship

**Word Count: **1,044

**Disclaimer:** Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan, not me. Sad.

**Author's Notes:** I still can't thank everyone enough for their support for this piece so far – I've never had so many alerts or favorites before and we're quickly approaching my all time hits record. You guys are awesome!

I'm sorry for failing to post yesterday, but this was only half written last night by first pitch. And then, well, my Giants won us the World Series. Fear the beard! Go Giants!

_**4 – Yusuf**_

_11 Months, 3 weeks, 4 Days Since Inception_

After a celebratory holiday, she starts working full time with Arthur.

Eames occasionally joins their team as needed, but mostly they just buddy up with lesser extractors or Arthur takes on both duties and they take trivial extraction jobs or contract with some of Arthur's old army buddies for some legitimate assignments. Neither the extractions or the contracts are as much of a rush as inception, but it pays the bills with several figures to spare and she can defy physics all she pleases. And they're good.

_Really_ good.

That's why they get a call from the state department to train the senate sponsor of a particularly controversial bill she isn't surprised. They are now The Best after all and this isn't just any old training job. This senator has more baggage than Cobb (except instead of murderous late wives making unwanted appearances, there are the occasional North Vietnamese snipers and landmines left from his army days) and is violently allergic to the traditional dreamsharing compounds. So while Arthur riddles out clever ways of remaining in the Senator's subconscious for more than thirty seconds back in DC, she is sent on a field trip to Mombasa to visit their favorite chemist.

Yusuf meets her at the airport and she is unbelievably grateful that she doesn't have to brave the zoo that is the taxi stand with her nonexistent Swahili. Of course, after about ten seconds on the road with the chemist, she's almost regretting leaving the crowded bank of cabs for the snug little compact car because and is quite sure they're going to hit something.

It isn't that Yusuf is a bad driver. He's actually quite good when he's not being chased by homicidal projections. The rest of Mombasa, however, is another story entirely.

It's rush hour and it seems as though the entire city's on the road – cars, trucks, motorcycles, bicycles, mopeds, every conceivable vehicle, plus hordes of pedestrians all swarming through the narrow streets like the most restless of projections, at speeds she wouldn't have though possible in the tightly packed city. Yusuf navigates the multitudes like a pro, but that certainly doesn't stop her stomach from turning and her heart from dropping every time a bike messenger zips in front of them or a heavily laden truck cuts them off with only inches to spare. By the time they reach his office and her head stops reeling, she has never been so happy to stand on solid ground in her life.

"Come on," Yusuf encourages in a way that suggests she looks precisely the way she feels and after that carnival ride, she's feeling rather like she's going to be ill. He helps her with her bags and promises to find he something to calm the motion sickness as she stumbles into his pharmacy and upstairs into his office, wanting nothing more than curl up in the nearest stationary chair and try to even out her breathing.

"Hey! You're alive!" The greeting is cheerful and comes from the corner desk where the chemist has a wide assortment of paperwork and glass vials stacked in messy piles and roughly grouped by size. Sitting at the desk, feet propped up on a stack of papers and toying with a yo-yo, is a miniature version of their chemist wearing a secondary school uniform. Almost. The boy is thinner, clean shaven, his features sharper than Yusuf's and he's wearing an arrogant grin that says Eames has recently stopped in for a visit and has quickly taken the chief spot in the boy's list of heroes. The chemist seems less than pleased with this development.

"Yes, Isaac, we're alive." Yusuf doesn't sound thrilled with the boy's tone and it's cocky edge as he steers her into the nearest chair. "Ariadne, my nephew Isaac." The chemist introduces impatiently while she tries not to think too hard about the roller coaster car trip she's just taken.

"It's always a pleasant surprise, Uncle," The boy grins again, ignoring the introduction and sleeping the yo-yo as Yusuf swats at the pair of shoes resting on a short pile of what looks like formulas. "_You've_ seen him drive that death trap." The kid smiles at Ariadne, laughs and throws the yo-yo into another trick and the poor chemist heaves a defeated sigh that says he is not prepared to handled particularly cheeky teenagers who ought to have been minding the shop rather than lounging about with a yo-yo. "Why can't you buy a proper car, Uncle? One with air conditioning?"

"Proper cars get stolen in this neighborhood." Yusuf explains dully as he rummages through the desk drawers, searching, she hopes, for something to settle her stomach. He sounds mildly offended, as though he's rather attached to the round little vehicle outside and there's something like longing in his voice – longing for the days when certain forgers didn't show up at his door to corrupt impressionable boys with his impish charm or for Isaac to just skip over the taunting arrogance that comes with being fourteen and she can't tell which. "Where is Grandfather?"

"Downstairs." Isaac's tone turns bored, mildly disappointed his uncle did not rise to the challenge of his teasing and his attention returns to the yo-yo and Yusuf looks relieved. The chemist has plucked a vial she hopes is for her from the shelves along the back wall and swats at the tabby cat lounging atop the first aid kit before he pulls a syringe and an alcohol swab.

"Perhaps you'd like to see if he needs anything?" The chemist suggests and his nephew sighs a very put upon sort of sigh as though he'd perhaps _not_, but complies and sulks off downstairs. "I'm sorry." Yusuf apologizes, motioning for her to hold out her wrist and she dimly realizes through the unfortunate spinning in her head that this is quite possibly the most she has ever heard the chemist speak about something not related to a job or somnacin compounds or dreamsharing in general. "His manners seem to have left him."

"Did Eames sneak them into his carry on?" She smiles weakly as he slips the needle into her wrist and he looks rather unimpressed.

"Ha, bloody _ha_."


	5. Arthur

**Title:** Le Famille

**Author:** A Crazy Elephant

**Summary:** Or "Five Times Ariadne Met Her Team Members' Families and the One Time They Met Hers"

**Category:** Family/Friendship

**Word Count: **1,422

**Disclaimer:** Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan, not me. Sad.

**Author's Notes:** I lied. _This_ is my favorite so far. There seems to be a few very clear ideas of the point man's childhood floating through this category – spoiled, but neglected east coast prep school brat, trouble orphan or abused rebel from the wrong side of the tracks – and I don't much care for any of them. So I went with something completely different.

Again, you guys are amazing, thank you so much for your reviews, favorites and alerts. Hits passed 1700 today; this is now official my most popular piece on . Thank you! ^^

_**5 – Arthur**_

_1 Year, 1 Month, 3 Weeks and 5 Days After Inception_

They have to run after the Venice job.

The employer turns up in the river, the extractor they've teamed up with sells them out and she and Arthur are on the next flight to Rio with three sets of false papers courtesy of Eames. They have a layover at Heathrow and while she's sitting on the uncomfortable modern benches inhaling a fast food hamburger, Arthur receives a phone call.

It isn't a long call, but something like disbelief with a twinge of pain and sadness crosses his face and he fumbles in his pocket for what she assumes is his die. Then he pulls himself together and returns to her side as he explains that something has happened and he has to go home rather than to the safe house as they'd planned. He offers to send her to Eames or Cobb, someone who'll know how to keep her safe – after all, she's still relatively new to the whole business of corporate espionage and illegal activities and while she can build labyrinths to rival Daedalus, hiding from vengeful and well connected adversaries isn't something she's particularly good at yet – unless she'd prefer to stay with him. She opts for the latter – she knows the Cobbs are on holiday in the South of France and Eames did quite a bit of grousing the last time she spoke to him about his required attendance at his fearsome mother-in-law's birthday party that takes place tomorrow and she isn't keen on putting either of her friends at risk for her sake.

They have to rearrange their flights to throw off their scent. They fly to Rio, Buenos Ares, Mexico City, Los Angeles, Vancouver, Denver, Chicago and burn through two of their false IDs before they land at Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport. Even as he steers her out to baggage claim and the rental car kiosks, she still can't seem to shake the surprise that erupted at Chicago O'Hare when he handed her the final boarding pass to _Texas_.

The shock and awe persist as Arthur loads up their rented sedan and drives southeast, out of the city and into increasing patches of nowhere apologizing for dragging her all the way out here. He still hasn't said what precisely has happened or what exactly constitutes 'home' - he's been his usual tight-lipped self through their marathon of flights, but the closer they get to their final destination, the more agitated and uncomfortable he's become and she's not sure she's ever seen him so on edge.

The patches of nowhere are broken up by towns smaller than her apartment that have maybe a Wal Mart or a Piggly Wiggly at best, but mostly are only distinguishable by the welcoming signs that proclaim the town's name before they pass back out into the expanses of open pastures. Arthur's still not saying anything, nor has he touched the GPS and if each turn were not so deliberate as though he's driven them all his life, she'd be concerned that he's finally gone and snapped like Eames is always predicting he will.

"If anyone asks, and they will, tell them you work for an architectural firm." It's the first thing Arthur's said since they left Dallas and she jumps at his words, too focused on the snaking gravel road they've taken in favor of the two-lane highways that wound through the towns. He doesn't specify who exactly 'they' are and he goes back to silence as he turns into a narrow gravel drive that end with a copse of trees and an old farmhouse she recognizes as American Foursquare with a wrap around porch. There's even a barn off to the back and her jetlagged brain finally puts it together that this isn't just 'we're in the country of our birth' home; this is 'the house I grew up in' home. They park next to a second shiny rental car and the moment they open the doors, are greeted by three overly friendly pugs each with their own little bandana and one old and slobbery bloodhound who follow them, tails wiggling excitedly, up to the front door.

Inside, it seems 'Country Homes and Gardens' has thrown up calico, quilting and strategically placed antiques over turn of the century heirloom furniture and framed photographs line the walls. Each quilt and blown glass oil lamp has been meticulously selected and neatly hung and every picture, many featuring photographic evidence that the point man was not in fact born in Armani carefully framed and placed about the house. She's particularly fond of the large portrait that sits on the family room's piano of a little boy who is most assuredly Arthur in a wrinkly miniature suit with two toothy little girls in matching ruffly dresses that she knows Eames would kill to get his hands on and she has to fish out her bishop, just to be sure. After numerous overseas flights and half a dozen time zone changes, she wouldn't put it past her exhausted mind to dream up something so downright domestic and comforting.

But her bishop says reality and she follows the point man dumbly into a quaint apple themed kitchen with a lovely matched dining set and a fridge covered in Christmas photos crica 1992, graduation pictures of the girls, an official looking army shot of Arthur and fading children's artwork. 'Wheel of Fortune' blares from a squat little television on the counter, where more than a dozen casseroles and lasagnas sit packed in Tupperware and she's half tempted to ask what's going on when a startled little squeak from the back hall interrupts.

"Jesus H, Junior! Think you could have called first?" It's one of the girls from the piano portrait, she's sure and it's unbelievably surreal to see Arthur's sticking-out ears and chocolaty eyes on a curly haired, albeit sharply dressed woman with a thick Southern drawl. "Hell, brother, what'd you think you're doin' creepin' in like a spook?"

"Hello Charlie." Arthur looks a little bit relieved as the woman pulls him into a quick hug and suddenly Ariadne feels out of place and intrusive.

"And who's this?"

"Ariadne, my sister Charlotte. Charlie, Ariadne," Arthur offers no explanation of her presence and Charlotte doesn't seem to need one. She just shakes Ariadne's hand without question and offers them lasagna.

"Where is everybody?" Arthur asks taking a seat at the kitchen table as Charlotte dishes the pasta into cereal bowls, which she hands over unceremoniously before hopping onto the counter with her own dinner.

"Funeral home – final arrangements and all that." Charlotte explains. "Bobbie Lee's drivin' in tomorrow and Mama's practically fallin' to pieces as much as Mama can, so Daddy's finishin' everything up. I've been stuck here collectin' casseroles all afternoon – hell, I didn't even think this many people actually _liked_ Granddad-"

"Charlie Ann! I don't want to hear another word against your granddaddy! He was a good man – Junior! Baby doll, how come you didn't call when you got in?" It's no wonder the point man has made sure every aspect of his adult life is perfectly planned and pressed because the round little woman the a pastel suit that interrupts is no less than a force of nature. Both Arthur and Charlotte stiffen at her appearance and the older man with the point man's ears and sharp jaw that follows her in looks almost defeated and distant and entirely unsurprised. Ariadne has absolutely no doubt that this is the woman responsible for the quilts, the bandanas on each of the enthusiastic dogs and impressing a near pathological need to dress smartly on her children.

"I-" Arthur can only rise from his chair before he is pulled into a tight hug and a rash of scolding and Ariadne is feeling awkward and invasive again. Charlotte and her father don't seem to mind – she offers him a bite of lasagna as the older man with his shined cowboy boots and bolo tie shuffles past his wife and his son to stand out of the way and neither seem overly offended by the complete stranger sitting at their kitchen table.

"Oh, and who's your friend, Junior?" There is a pause in the scolding when she is noticed. Ariadne stands obediently and Arthur begins to introduce her, but Charlotte interrupts.

"Come on Mama, Junior ain't got _friends_," She grins and Ariadne learns precisely where the point man perfected his death glare.


	6. Ariadne

**Title:** Le Famille

**Author:** A Crazy Elephant

**Summary:** Or "Five Times Ariadne Met Her Team Members' Families and the One Time They Met Hers"

**Category:** Family/Friendship

**Word Count: **1,673

**Disclaimer:** Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan, not me. Sad.

**Author's Notes:** K; I'm sorry I didn't get this out sooner, but real life happened and then there was the all important question of how I was going to get Ariadne's family and the team in one place without the piece just sounding ridiculous. It still sounds highly coincidental, but whatever. Enjoy.

Again, you guys are amazing, thank you so much for your reviews, favorites and alerts. Everyone's been so supportive throughout the course of this piece and I can't tell you what it means to hear so much feedback. Thank you! ^^

_**6 – Ariadne**_

_1 Year, 6 Months, 2 weeks, 1 Day Since Inception_

They're in Chicago.

Except it's Christmastime and the warehouse they're using for base of operations is right on Lake Michigan so every angry gust that blows in off the ice cuts right through every layer of thermal and fleece she wears and she's seriously beginning to question Arthur's real estate choices as she sits shivering next to a space heater and her piles of coreboard and balsa.

Yusuf is worse off.

They've taken another security contract – this one for a global energy summit. Every giant in energy production and regulation will be in attendance and they're on to run diagnostics on each attendee's subconscious to make sure no nuclear secrets or policy is stolen before the conference begins. It's a whole lot of building cities and a whole lot of getting shot out. They need a full team to cover them, so she and Arthur have tapped Eames and Yusuf to help out and since this is a legal enterprise, even Cobb's agreed to come out to consult.

It's great, having everyone out to help just like old times, but she's not sure the poor frozen chemist feels the same as he sits across the way wearing every scrap of clothing he's brought along, his teeth chattering as he works through some formulas. The balmy Mombasa weather has clearly not prepared him for the sub zero Lake Michigan wind chill or drafty workspaces with only sad little space heaters for comfort.

Arthur's not faring much better behind his mountains of paperwork. More years spent out of the equatorial region has given him thicker skin and a better grasp on dressing for the weather than Yusuf, but she can practically feel his sulk and hear him silently berating himself over his files from her corner of coreboard.

Eames and Cobb seem to manage to weather all right, but aren't exactly in the Christmas spirit either.

Eames has been trading angry phone calls all morning with his wife who apparently is being held at JFK International, his in-laws in Derry City and a commercial airline concerning Mim's place on the No-Fly List and her brother's membership to certain overly aggressive nationalist groups. Cobb meanwhile, is still reeling from battling a crush of cutthroat Christmas shopping mothers at the company's flagship store to procure Phillipa the American Girl Doll she has requested from Santa Clause and the insanity of trying to get into FAO Schwartz a week before the holidays to collect the Thomas Tank Engine train set James has asked for.

No one is overly cheerful by midday when Saito, free from preliminary arrangements at the convention, drops in to take them to lunch and any holiday spirit she might have had stashed under the layers of fleece, thermal and silk vanishes entirely when someone calls her name as they pile out of their cabs and bluster toward the restaurant doors.

She instantly, deeply regrets telling her father that she would in fact be working in Chicago just before Christmas so of course she'd be home for the holidays the moment she hears "Addie! Puppy! Here sweetheart!" ring out over the bustle of Michigan Avenue traffic.

Oh. Dear. _God_.

Her team doesn't seem to notice and instead continue trying to extract the heavily layered Yusuf from the taxi without tripping up the chemist and sending him into the blackened slush of the sidewalk, but she certainly does. And there they are, the whole motley crew. Daddy, her stepmother Bren and baby sister Phae, in ski coats and Bren's hand knitted scarves looking exactly like the small town Hoosiers they are, crossing the square at a good clip and she knows she's caught.

"Hey Puppy!" Daddy greets again and she waves with a halfhearted smile. It isn't that she doesn't want to see them or that she's particularly embarrassed by them, but she's not overly thrilled at the prospect of introducing her generally conservative parents and her particularly boy-crazed teenage sister to her handsome and charming, questionably moral coworkers.

"Daddy! Bren!" She enthuses as they approach. "What are you guys doing here?" She asks, as Bren sweeps her into down-filled hug before passing her over to Daddy.

"Your mom wanted to do a bit of Christmas shoppin'," Daddy explains as she shares an awkward hug with Phae. Her sister is presently in that state of perpetual pout that comes with being fifteen and is pretending not to care that this is the first time they've seen each other since Easter.

"Since you're up here, we thought we'd take the train on up instead of driving down to Indy," Bren continues, brushing at a few stray snowflakes that have settled onto Ariadne's coat, "We were goin' to call you, Addie, see if you could get away for awhile."

"Ariadne?" Arthur calls over. Her team has successfully exited the cabs without falling victim to the wickedly slick blackened slush and has now taken interest in what their architect is doing talking to civilians, particularly ones who look so unbelievably Middle America it's ridiculous.

"Oh! Are these the fellas you work with, Puppy?" _Puppy_. She can feel Eames' mood improving exponentially at this new development. His family might presently be detained by TSA in New York while he shivers in Chicago, but one of his beloved coworkers has just been addressed by a childhood pet name. She's not seen him look so happy since he picked up Arthur's phone to hear one of the point man's sisters asking for 'Wart'.

"Um-" She fumbles awkwardly for something to say, for a place to begin. There they all are, standing out in front of some Michelin Three Star eatery in the wicked Chicago winter wind. Three high-profile dream thieves, a frozen chemist and one of Forbes World's Most Powerful People are standing on a salted sidewalk in the sleet with her parents and sulking baby sister all waiting on _her_ to say something.

"Introduce us, Addie," Bren encourages.

"Yes, darling, introduce us," Eames chimes in. This is clearly a fabulous distraction for the forger.

"Yeah, Ad," Phae has perked up significantly at the sight of Ariadne's coworkers and Ariadne isn't surprised. Each of them are wearing clearly designer outerwear, even Yusuf, who's buried under layers of coats and is presently reminisce of the little boy from 'A Christmas Story' and they all have charming sorts of smiles and Ariadne can all ready see the wheels turning in her sister's head.

"Well," She starts. "Everyone, this is my family," She motions awkwardly. "Dad, Bren, this is, well, everyone." She blunders and she knows she sounds rude, but Daddy takes charge.

"Pleasure, boys; name's Kim," Daddy introduces shaking each of their hands. "My wife Brenda, and our youngest there, Phaedra."

"Cobb, Dom Cobb," Cobb returns and he seems about continue, but Eames interrupts.

"Eames," Eames says with his most mischievous and winning smile. The forger is in fine form and no one seems to have the energy to tell him off. "Willy Eames, this is our charming client, Mr. Saito, darling Arthur and dear Yusuf." He continues and Ariadne watches as Phae is hopelessly lost to the forger's exciting accent and smooth confidence.

"Pleasure," Arthur agrees with a dark look to Eames. He doesn't seem thrilled with idea of being introduced as 'darling' to anyone, let alone a respected friend and coworker's family and Ariadne can tell by the thunderstruck look on Phae's face that her sister's torn. _Which of the handsome, moneyed men her sister works with is most desirable?_ Ariadne briefly longs for they days when Phae was ripping heads off Barbie dolls and chattering on about the latest episode of Blue's Clues instead of scouting for potential boyfriends and dearly hopes she was not so ridiculous at fifteen.

"Addie speaks so highly about all of you," Bren gushes. "She just loves workin' for your firm-"

"Bren-" Ariadne begins, not particularly thrilled with the idea of subtly explaining the lies about working for an architectural consultation firm she's told her family in place of explaining to her law-abiding, god-fearing family that actually, she steals, plants and defends valuable corporate and government intelligence in the subconscious of some of the world's most powerful executives and lawmakers to her team without cluing in the family in question to her dishonesty. "We were just headed to-" She gestures awkwardly at eatery behind her, "I can call you-"

"Don't worry," Cobb interrupts. "We can meet you back at the warehouse, if you'd like to take you parents to lunch." He suggests and she has never been more grateful.

"That's awful kind of you Mr. Cobb, lettin' us borrow Addie – you sure it's no trouble?" Daddy asks.

"Not at all – Arthur can catch her up, right Arthur?"

"Of course." The point man agrees and then with a few overly charming good byes that have Phae, still dumbfounded into silence by the pack of good-looking and successful men that are about as far away from back home in Battle Ground, Indiana as Alpha Centuri is from Earth, falling in love with her coworkers all over again, her team disappears into the restaurant and she lets Daddy lead them to his very favorite steak house up here.

"So," Bren begins as they trail after Daddy. Her stepmother has on a smug smirk to rival her favorite forger's and Ariadne's not sure she likes it. "They're certainly delightful."

"Yes," Ariadne agrees absently, as her sister casts longing glances back at the restaurant doors as though one of her teammates is going to suddenly burst out and declare his instant, undying love for Phae.

"And _handsome_." Bren continues hopefully and Ariadne catches on where she's going with this. "And so _polite_."

"Bren-" She begins, hoping to head off this line of questioning before Bren gets too excited and starts planning out various futures including charming church weddings and grandchildren for her, but Bren's all ready there.

"I don't suppose you're seein' one of them, are you?"

_**Le Fin**_


End file.
